(no subject)

[mathrobot]

i had this dog named minor device. minor device was good enough...for a dog. his only real problem was that he was a canine fuck machine. he was always fucking the furniture and stuffed animals and relatives and me and my leg. he was always fucking everything straight up. it was hard to ignore the misguided affectations of a mongrel like my minor device, especially when im twelve and easily embarrassed and a dogs little red love is the most disgusting thing imaginable. the only return minor device received on his investments was occasioned by the few times he managed to get out of the fence to fuck with the neighbors dog, a slim little bitch named the fucking muse. upon burrowing under his fence or jumping over his fence or squeezing through his fence minor device invariably would head directly for the fucking muse, who had the run of the neighborhood and who teased all the little caged fuck machines with her ostensibly available bitch ass. my minor device would perfunctorily sniff at the ass of the fucking muse-sniffing as a purely functional segue between the moving towards and fucking of the fucking muse-and if examination and adjudication of the offered lay was laconic, then the actuality of the lay would have been prolix. as in drawn out and graphic. as in quite a spectacle. a spectacle resulting in a minor device becoming irretrievably stuck in the fucking muse. it happens. the dogs little red love becomes too great in its usage to facilitate its usage. then the whole process comes to a grinding halt.
my most lasting memories of my literary device involve spraying him with the garden hose in the front yard. avoiding eye contact with neighbors, i always aimed for his lips-skinned back from his teeth and his useless little paws gripping the fucking muse about the middle-fruitlessly and irrevocably engaged with the bitch-in the front yard.